


I'm sorry

by Adara_Rose



Series: Seashelly Fictober 2018 [5]
Category: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fictober, Fictober 2018, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Masochism, Punishment, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 23:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: Jefferson has put his life in danger and Shelly is Not Pleased.So, he make sure that his boy is very, very sorry.(Don't worry, it's consensual)





	I'm sorry

It had been brewing all afternoon. It wasn’t something that was said, or even hinted at with a glance or a gesture. But Jefferson could feel it, like a prickling at the back of his neck. The displeasure. He also knew exactly why that feeling was there, why he felt as if he was being watched and that stare was disapproving. He was In Trouble.

He felt that he should probably be ashamed of how desperate he was for Shelly’s approval, whether spoken or felt. But maybe that’s the way it is when you love someone. He didn’t exactly have much experience in that quarter. 

He wondered if anyone had noticed the way his knees went weak at Shelly’s silent, disapproving stare as he returned from his mission (the crash had totally  _ not _ been his fault) and he spent most of the afternoon in a state of dread and excitement.

 

So when he was ordered away from camp, to the spot he had come to think of as theirs, he didn’t even think before he was halfway there. 

He fell to his knees in the middle of the clearing, waiting like he knew he was expected to. The evening was starting to get chilly, and Jefferson shivered in his thin shirt. But one look from Shelly’s cool blue eyes had been enough to tell him that he was not to pause to fetch his jacket but go immediately.

 

He could hear the rustle and cracking of the vegetation as someone approached from behind, and he didn’t need to turn his head to recognize Shelly’s steps. There was a weight behind them that was familiar, both loved and dreaded, and Jefferson felt his body responding almost immediately.

 

A strong hand was laid on his neck, both caressing and demanding.

“What am I to do with you?” Shelly sighed deeply. “One of these days,  _ boy _ , you’re going to get yourself truly hurt.”

Jefferson whimpered softly. God, he always got so hot when Shelly called him boy!

“I’m sorry” he begged, not struggling as his head was forced down until his neck protested.

“I know,” Shelly said, his voice marginally softer. “But you still need to be taught a lesson, boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is your safe word?” They both knew it, but it was one of the unspoken rules.

“Jumanji,” Jefferson said quietly. Oh. god, he was going to be  _ punished.  _

 

“Take off your shirt.” the command was in a voice that brokered no argument. He obeyed immediately, folding the garment carefully and placing it on the ground next to him. It wouldn’t do to throw it away aimlessly; it’d only earn him more disapproval. 

 

“What am I going to do with you” Shelly murmured, more to himself, as he distractedly stroked Jefferson’s head. He tried to lean into the caress, but that earned him a hard grip on his hair that made his eyes fill with tears.

 

There was silence behind him, and a noise he pretended not to recognize even though he felt reasonably confident that he did.

“Lean forward.” Was the command, “hands on the ground.”

Kneeling like an obedient dog, Jefferson felt the arousal throb through his entire body as he waited for whatever punishment Shelly found fit to hand out on this night.

 

Still, the first crack of the whip over his shoulders took him completely by surprise. It always did. 

“Count.” this time the command was little more than a caress, soft and whispered but no less demanding. 

“One!” It came out as a gasp.

“What else?” Shelly demanded behind him.

“I’m sorry!” A whimper this time.

The crack of the whip again, this time striking his back. Jefferson arched into the strike, loving the pain it brought.

“Two! I’m sorry!”

 

He lost himself in the pain, shuddering in pain-pleasure every time the whip was brought down on his back, skin bruising and aching. Shelly was relentless, but that only served to excite him even more, his trousers impossibly tight as his entire being leaned into each strike, craving the pain even as his mind shied away from it.

“Fourteen! I’m sorry!” He cried, tears pooling in his eyes. 

The whip found his shoulders again.

“Fifteen! God — I’m sorry!”

The whip struck again, this time breaking the skin, and he could feel the blood run hot down his back.

“Please!” He wailed, “Sixteen! I’m sorry!”


End file.
